Jesus Prays (Luke 6:12)

What did Jesus do before He chose His twelve disciples? He prayed all night (Luke 6:12)

With opposition mounting in regards to his compliance with Sabbath observance (Luke 6:1-11), Jesus retreats to a mountain where he prays throughout the night (Luke 6:12).

One of those days Jesus went out to a mountainside to pray, and spent the night praying to God. (Luke 6:12 NASB)

The following day, Jesus makes a critical move: he installs the twelve disciples who will serve as his inner core throughout the remainder of his life (Luke 6:13-16).

The length of time between Jesus’ nightlong prayer (Luke 6:12) and the preceding controversy surrounding healing on the Sabbath (Luke 6:6-11) is not indicated. Luke adds the imprecise time stamp that the prayer occurs on “one of those days” (Luke 6:12). As “those days” presumably contain continued criticism, the modern exasperated connotation of “one of those days” applies.

Such nondescript segues are common in Luke. Justo L. González (b. 1937) catalogs:

We come to a series of passages that begin with phrases that are chronologically vague, such as “once” (Luke 5:1, 12), “one day” (Luke 5:17), “one sabbath” (Luke 6:1), “on another sabbath” (Luke 6:6). At other points, however, Luke does imply a chronological connection: “after this” (Luke 5:27), “then” (Luke 5:29, 33), “during those days” (Luke 6:12). (González, Luke (Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible), 73)

The selection of the disciples is a pivotal scene in Luke’s narrative. Mark C. Black (b. 1956) outlines:

This passage begins a new section for Luke. It is not by accident that he narrates Jesus’ choosing his disciples just before the “Sermon on the Plain.” [Luke 6:17-49] Luke makes it clear that Jesus’ sermon is directed to them. The choosing of 12 disciples is such a momentous activity that Jesus does not attempt it before getting away to a mountainside and spending all night praying to God. (Black, Luke (College Press NIV Commentary), 138)

Before making the crucial announcement of the election of the Twelve, Jesus withdraws to a mountain to pray (Luke 6:12). The setting is as vague as the time marker though Luke designates the mountain with a definite article: Jesus is at the mountain (ASV, ESV, HCSB, NASB, NKJV, NRSV, RSV), not a mountain (CEV, KJV, MSG, NIV, NLT).

Michael F. Patella (b. 1954) locates:

There is a noticeable shift of direction in this scene. Away from the synagogues, towns, and people, Jesus goes “to the mountain to pray” (Luke 6:12) in an all-night vigil. The exact mountain is unknown, though the use of the definite article indicates that Lukan tradition must have had some specific mountain in mind. Galilee has many high places that could qualify as quiet retreats for prayer, but two are the most likely promontories: Mount Hermon, rising from the northeast corner of the Sea of Galilee, and Mount Tabor, south of the sea, visible from Nazareth and on the Jezreel Plain. They both have been traditional places of prayer from earliest antiquity (see Psalm 89:13), although Tabor is the more accessible of the two. (Patella, The Gospel According to Luke (New Collegeville Bible Commentary), 43)

Darrell L. Bock (b. 1953) studies:

The mountain referred to is not specified (William Hendriksen [1900-1982] 1978: 326 mentions the Horns of Hattin). Many speculate on a motif associated with the mountain: as a symbol for a place of revelation (so Frederick W. Danker [1920-2012] 1988: 134-35, citing Exodus 24:1-18) or a picture of being close to God (Joseph A. Fitzmyer [b. 1920] 1981: 616; Werner Foerster [1897-1975], Theological Dictionary of the New Testament 5:481). The latter is more likely, though there is no reason to turn the reference into a mere theological symbol. (Bock, Luke 1:1-9:50 (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 540)

Mark L. Strauss (b. 1959) offers:

This is also the hill on which Jesus gives his great sermon (see Luke 6:17). Luke’s reference to “a mountainside” is vague and the location is uncertain. It has traditionally been identified with the “Mount of Beatitudes’ at Tabgha, a mile and a half from Capernaum. Others identity the location as the Horns of Hattum near Tiberias. [Clinton E. Arnold [b. 1958], Luke (Zondervan Illustrated Bible Backgrounds Commentary), 60)

Perhaps, most significantly the mountain is where people are not. Jesus has been in demand and the remoteness of the mountainside marks a stark contrast with the crowds to which he has become accustomed (Luke 4:42, 5:3, 5:15). With so much of his life on public display, Jesus finds it necessary to seek private time with God. The setting is stripped down with Jesus’ physical isolation commensurate with his inner solitude. This excursion is not for show; the crowds will have no influence on what unfolds on the mountain.

Retreating is normative behavior for Jesus; this is the third time in Luke’s gospel that he seeks isolation (Luke 4:42, 5:16, 6:12). John T. Carroll (b. 1954) addresses:

This is a familiar rhythm of Jesus’ ministry, although here Jesus withdraws not to the desert (or isolated places, as in Luke 4:42, 5:16) but to a mountain, literally “the mountain”...The mountain setting has rich symbolic meaning, and not just as a generic location for contact with the divine and divine disclosure. Moses received divine revelation on the mountain (Sinai) and then descended to the base of the mountain to impart that revelation to the people (e.g., Exodus 19:3, 14, 20, 25). Also on a mountain, Jesus receives God’s guidance, selects twelve apostles, and then descends with them to the plain, where he teaches a large crowd of disciples and the rest of the people (Luke 6:17). (Carroll, Luke: A Commentary (New Testament Library, 141)

Jesus values solitude. J. Norfleete Day (b. 1945) discerns:

Solitude is more than simply being alone. It is choosing to be alone with God so that we can be who we truly are and come to acknowledge this reality to ourselves and to God. It is as much a state of mind and heart as it is a place. We remove ourselves for a time from the distractions of the world and the responsibilities of community to reorient ourselves. It is a time to confront what Kenneth Boa [b. 1945] calls the “inner patterns and forces that are alien to the life of Christ within us.” Note also the words of M. Robert Mulholland, Jr. [b. 1936]: “In the classical Christian spiritual tradition...solitude is...beginning to face the deep inner dynamics of our being that make us that grasping, controlling, manipulative person; beginning to face our brokenness, our distortion, our darkness; and beginning to offer ourselves to God at those points.” (Timothy George [b. 1950] and Eric F. Mason [b. 1969], “Spiritual Theology for the Evangelical Church”, Theology in the Service of the Church: Essays Presented to Fisher H. Humphreys [b. 1939], 105)

While on the mountain, Jesus prays (Luke 6:12). Prayer is also a habit for Christ. This practice is especially emphasized in Luke’s gospel where prayer is a pervading factor in the gospel’s depiction of Jesus. Luke records that prayer “was his custom” (Luke 22:39 NASB).

David E. Garland (b. 1947) portrays:

Luke is the evangelist of prayer. Nine references to Jesus’ praying or teaching about prayer appear in Luke, seven on which are not recorded in the other gospels. Luke is the primary source both for knowledge of Jesus’ prayer life and for instruction in prayer. Luke alone tells us that prayer was associated with many of the redletter days in Jesus’ life. (Garland, Luke (Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 977)

Darrell L. Bock (b. 1953) focuses:

This text is one of several where Luke associated an event with prayer (Luke 1:13, 2:37, 3:21, 5:16, 6:12, 28, 9:18, 11:1-2, 18:1, 22:41, 45). Dialogue with God is crucial to spirit well-being for Luke, particularly a humble attitude as one approaches God in prayer (Luke 18:9-14). For Luke prayer is a concrete way of expressing our necessary dependence on God. (Bock, Luke (IVP New Testament Commentary), 118)

I. Howard Marshall (b. 1934) researches:

The prayers of Jesus are highlighted in Luke’s Gospel at the crucial events in the story of Jesus. They have, of course, occasioned considerable discussion among Lucan scholars (cf. P.T. O’Brien [b. 1935], “Prayer in Luke-Acts”). The most extensive treatment of them is by David Crump [b. 1956] (Jesus the Intercessor), who has argued (1) that Jesus as the Son of God in Luke is the interceding mediator who prays for his disciples, and (2) that in Luke there is a self-revelatory function to Jesus’ prayers, so that through them the disciples come to a deeper realization of who he is. (Richard N. Longenecker [b. 1930], “Jesus — Example and Teacher of Prayer in the Synoptic Gospels”, Into God’s Presence: Prayer in the New Testament, 118)

Luke’s attention to Jesus’ prayer life is especially evident in the recounting of the selection of the disciples as Luke alone documents the preceding prayer (Matthew 10:1-4; Mark 3:13-19; Luke 6:12-17).

Dennis M. Sweetland (b. 1946) compares:

In rewriting Mark’s introduction, Luke has introduced the motif of prayer into this story (cf. Mark 3:13-19). Throughout the gospel Luke portrays Jesus as one who prays (Luke 3:21, 5:16, 6:12, 9:18, 28, 29, 11:1; cf. Luke 23:34, 46). Jesus teaches his disciples a prayer (Luke 11:2-4), and urges them to pray always and not lose heart (Luke 11:5-8, 18:1-8; cf. Luke 22:40). In Acts, the early church is pictured as following Jesus’ teaching and example concerning faithfulness in prayer (e.g., Acts 1:14-24, 2:42, 46, 47, 4:24-31, 12:5, 12, 20:36, 21:5). This has led many to conclude that Luke considers prayer to be among the more important elements of discipleship. (Earl Richard [b. 1940], “Following Jesus: Discipleship in Luke Acts”, New Views on Luke and Acts, 113)

Darrell L. Bock (b. 1953) interprets:

Luke’s portrait of Jesus highlights prayer. He prays before receiving the Spirit (Luke 3:21-22), all-night prayer precedes the selecting the Twelve (Luke 6:12), and two parables focus on prayer (Luke 11:5-13, 18:1-8). The answer to the dilemma of prayer is that it is not intended to do something for God, but for us. It is one of the mechanisms of relationship that God gives to his children to be in touch with him. God may not need prayer, but we do. (Bock, Luke (IVP New Testament Commentary), 291-92)

There is a trend in Luke’s placement of prayer as the gospel repeatedly employs prayer at important junctures in the narrative. Robert C. Tannehill (b. 1934) associates:

The comparatively frequent references to Jesus’ prayer in Luke almost always precede an important new development or crisis (Luke 3:21, 5:16, 9:18, 9:28-29, 22:40-46). Jesus’ prayer in Luke 6:12 also fits the pattern of Acts where prayer regularly accompanies appointment of people to special positions (Acts 1:24, 6:6, 13:2-3, 14:23; cf. John Nolland [b. 1947] 1989, 272). (Tannehill, Luke (Abingdon New Testament Commentaries), 113)

John F. O’Grady (b. 1939) inventories:

Luke...portrays Jesus as a man of prayer. He prayed just before his baptism (Luke 3:21). After he worked miracles he withdrew to pray (Luke 5:16). He prayed all night before choosing his disciples (Luke 6:12) and prayed after the miracle of the loaves (Luke 9:18). Jesus prayed as a prelude to the transfiguration (Luke 9:28-29), and was praying when his disciples asked him to teach them to pray (Luke 11:1). He prayed in the garden (Luke 22:39-45) and from the cross (Luke 23:46). By Luke’s account, Jesus always remains in close contact with God. (O’Grady, Men in the Bible: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, 114)

Richard J. Foster (b. 1942) depicts:

Like a recurring pattern in a quilt, so prayer threads its way through Jesus’ life...The teachings are matched by continual practice, not only of prayer itself but intense times of solitude. Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness for forty days (Matthew 4:1). He “withdrew...to a deserted place by himself” after learning of the beheading of his dear friend and cousin, John the Baptizer (Matthew 14:13). Following the incredible experience of the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus immediately “went up the mountain by himself to pray” (Matthew 14:23). When the disciples were exhausted from the demands of ministry, Jesus told them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while” (Mark 6:31). After Jesus’ healing of a leper Luke seems to be describing more of a habitual practice than a single incident when he notes that Jesus “would withdraw to deserted places and pray” (Luke 5:16). (Foster, Streams of Living Water: Celebrating the Great Traditions of Christ, 4-5)

The text does not specify what Jesus prays, instead noting only that he prays (Luke 6:12). Perhaps he says nothing but merely listens. Given the resultant action, the logical inference is that Jesus seeks guidance regarding who to include among his closest associates.

Robert H. Gundry (b. 1932) clarifies:

“Spending the whole night in prayer” heightens the accent on this sort of piety. Though many commentators deduce that Jesus was praying for divine guidance in selecting and naming the twelve apostles (Luke 6:13-16), Luke doesn’t relate the content of Jesus’ praying. So the accent falls on praying as such. Consistently, Luke portrays Jesus as a paragon of piety. (Gundry, Commentary on Luke)

Jesus could as easily be praying regarding the storm brewing in the passage that precedes the prayer (Luke 6:1-11) as the selection of the disciples which follows (Luke 6:13-16). The two topics could also be connected as there has previously been no mention of a need for an inner circle. As such, the installation of the Twelve may in some way be connected to the growing opposition.

François Bovon (b. 1938) assures that Jesus does not pray “for secular goods but for the unfolding plan of salvation by means of obedient faith in response to the revealed Word of God.” (Bovon, Luke 1 (Hermeneia: A Critical & Historical Commentary on the Bible), 208). Based upon his other prayers, it is likely that Jesus does not pray for “success”, but rather seeks conformity to God’s will (Luke 22:42).

Luke incorporates an odd phrase which appears only here in Scripture, typically translated as prayer “to God” (ASV, ESV, HCSB, KJV, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NLT, NRSV, RSV). Not only is this wording redundant (who else would he be praying to?) but it does not represent a literal rendering of the Greek.

Joseph A. Fitzmyer (b. 1920) identifies:

Literally “in the prayer of God”...Tou theou has to be understood as an objective genitive; it is omitted in manuscript D, probably because of its awkwardness, or perhaps because Jesus’ prayer is mentioned in neither Mark nor Matthew. (Fitzmyer, The Gospel According to Luke I-IX (The Anchor Bible), 616)

David E. Garland (b. 1947) expounds:

The phrase “in prayer with God” (ἐν τη προσευχη του θεου, literally, “in the prayer of God”) is an objective genitive and implies that Jesus “speaks to God not for the sake of talking but to listen.” As the people come to listen to him, he listens to God, and tying his choice of the Twelve to prayer means that this decision has a “divine impetus” and purpose. They have not applied for the job. (Garland, Luke (Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 272-273)

David Lyle Jeffrey (b. 1941) adds:

The additional phrase proseuchē tou theou (“prayer to God”) marks Jesus’s role as Son of the Father and intercessor; for Luke it is of the essence of our understanding of what follows that we perceive that Jesus has sought the will of the Father specifically before acting. As prolegomena, it is here especially striking: in the words of Pope Benedict XVI [b. 1927], “the calling of the disciples is a prayer event; it is as if they were begotten in prayer, in intimacy with the Father.” (Jeffrey, Luke (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible, 90))

In praying, Jesus partners with God.

It is not coincidence that Luke, the “evangelist of prayer”, also stresses Jesus’ humanity: there are few tasks more human than prayer, with its implicit dependence. Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768-1834) speaks of Jesus’ “consciousness of utter dependence on God”.

The question of why Jesus, as God incarnate, prays “to God” or “with God” is not an issue for the gospel writers. Instead, they stress the constancy of Christ’s prayers. After emptying himself of his deity (Philippians 2:7-8), the presumption is that Jesus prays for the same reason we all do, save for repentance and forgiveness of sins. Being fully human, prayer is as essential for Jesus as anyone.

Strikingly, on this occasion, Jesus prays all night (Luke 6:12). I. Howard Marshall (b. 1934) defines:

διανυκτερεύω, ‘to pass the night’ (Job 2:9), is used of an all-night vigil (cf. Luke 22:39-46) and stresses the solemnity of the occasion...The choice of the Twelve is made only after seeking God’s guidance (Acts 13:2, 14:23; cf. Luke 1:24-26). (Marshall, The Gospel of Luke (New International Greek Testament Commentary), 238)

A.T. Robertson (1863-1934) comments:

He spent the whole night (ἠν διανυκερεύων), a periphrastic imperfect active clause. It is here alone in the New Testament, but common in the Septuagint and in later Greek writers. Medical writers used it for whole night vigils. (Robertson, The Gospel according to Luke (Word Pictures in the New Testament), 98)

Darrell L. Bock (b. 1953) annotates:

Before choosing the Twelve, Jesus withdraws and spends the entire night in prayer. Διανυκερεύων (dianyktereuōn) refers to an all-night prayer vigil and appears only here in the New Testament (Job 2:9c; Josephus [37-100], Antiquities 6.13.9 §311; Alfred Plummer [1841-1926] 1896: 171)....Jesus’ actions follow a long communion with God. This is how Jesus deals with the rise of opposition. Solemnity and a note of guidance open the account...The early church learned to imitate this practice of prayer before decisions (Acts 6:6, 13:2-3, 14:23; I Timothy 4:14; II Timothy 1:6). Having spent the night in prayer, Jesus is ready to act. (Bock, Luke 1:1-9:50 (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 540)

R. Kent Hughes (b. 1942) envisions:

If he began after sundown at, say, 8:00 P.M. and prayed until sunup (6:00 AM), he spent ten hours in focused prayer (the Greek translated “spent the night” expresses persevering energy). As Jesus prayed on the mountainside, the moon ran its nocturnal course, the night’s temperature modulated with the hours, and morning dew dampened his robes. (Hughes, Luke, Volume One: That You May Know the Truth (Preaching the Word), 606)

The length of this prayer vigil is telling. Though Jesus routinely seeks God, praying all night is irregular. Though the psalms reference nightlong prayers (Psalm 6:6, 119:148), this is the only time Jesus is said to pray throughout the night. The session’s duration is indicative of the intensity of the prayer and the seriousness of the situation. Jesus ups the ante.

Justo L. González (b. 1937) understands:

The passage begins with prayer. The naming of the Twelve is not a random event, nor a decision taken lightly. Before naming them the next day, Jesus spent the night in prayer. This is the only time Luke depicts Jesus as praying all night—which shows the importance of the decision about to be made. (González, Luke (Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible), 90)

I. Howard Marshall (b. 1934) contends:

It is clear that for Luke an important stage in the founding of the church is to be seen here, the choice of those from among the company of Jesus’ companions from the beginning of his ministry who were to be in a special sense the witnesses to his resurrection and the messengers of the gospel. (Marshall, The Gospel of Luke (New International Greek Testament Commentary), 237)

As a point of comparison, choosing his disciples is comparable to Jesus praying to select the proper spouse. The Twelve will be the people with whom he will live and with whom he will spend the majority of his time. The disciples are the firstfruits of the church, the bride of Christ (Revelation 18:23, 19:7, 21:2, 9, 22:17). The extent of Jesus’ prayer pays deference to the imperativeness of the situation.

Genuine prayer can be painstaking and Jesus is willing to put in the necessary effort. Wayne Grudem (b. 1948) correlates:

Just as Moses twice stayed on the mountain forty days before God for the people of Israel (Deuteronomy 9:25-26, 10:10-11), and just as Jacob said to God, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me” (Genesis 32:26), so we see in Jesus’ life a pattern of much time given to prayer. When great multitudes were following him, “he himself was often withdrawing into the wilderness regions and praying” (Luke 5:16, author’s translation)...Another time, “all night he continued in prayer to God” (Luke 6:12). (Grudem, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine, 387)

Wayne Grudem (b. 1948) instructs:

It is important to allow enough time for the various aspects of corporate worship. Genuine prayer can certainly take time (see Luke 6:12, 22:3-46; Acts12:12, 13:2). Solid Bible teaching can often take a long time as well (Matthew 15:32; Acts 20:7-11). Moreover, genuine, heartfelt worship and praise will also take quite a bit of time if it is to be effective. (Grudem, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine, 1012)

Significantly, Luke accentuates that prayer often precedes an important task (Luke 3:21-22, 5:16). Like pumping a shot gun before shooting, prayer should precipitate action.

It is also noteworthy that solitude precedes community. Kenneth Boa (b. 1945) informs:

In a series on “Moving from Solitude to Community to Ministry,” Henri Nouwen [1932-1996] uses Luke 6:12-19 to illustrate the combination of these three disciplines in the life of our Lord. Jesus spent the night in solitude with God, and in the morning he formed community by gathering his disciples around him. Then in the afternoon Jesus ministered with his disciples to the physical and spiritual needs of the people who came to hear him. In the same way, we should imitate this inside-out order that flows from devotion to Christ (solitude), to devotion to the community, to devotion to the gospel (ministry). Community is the bridge that connects solitude (intimacy with God) with ministry to believers and unbelievers. (Boa, Conformed to His Image: Biblical and Practical Approaches to Spiritual Formation, 394)

Luke offers a rare glimpse behind the scenes of Jesus’ ministry into the less glamorous realm of his spiritual life. As he has not yet selected the disciples, he is not merely modeling proper behavior.

Scot McKnight (b. 1953) characterizes:

Jesus was truly a religious man. The normal features of his intense religious fervor can be inferred from the records about his life. Jesus prayed frequently (Luke 5:16) and fervently (Mark 1:35, 6:46), even all night (Luke 6:12). His baptism and transfiguration were accompanied by prayer (Luke 3:21, 9:28-29). In fact, Luke tells us that Jesus’ prayers were so noticeable that his disciples asked him to teach them how to pray (Luke 11:1). The distinguishing characteristic of Jesus’ prayers was that he addressed God as Abba (the Aramaic term for “father”; cf. Matthew 6:9, 11:25-26; Mark 14:36). Scholars have found a surprising and perhaps unique degree of intimacy with God in this form of address; at the minimum, it reflects how Jesus experienced God. (Michael J. Wilkins [b. 1949] and J. P. Moreland [b. 1948], “Who is Jesus? An Introduction to Jesus Studies”, Jesus Under Fire: Modern Scholarship Reinvents the Historical Jesus, 58)

Though many contemporary followers of Jesus claim to be “spiritual but not religious”, Jesus is in fact a highly religious, praying person.

How important is prayer to Jesus’ ministry? How does he occupy his time in prayer? Did Jesus struggle to discern the will of God? Why does Jesus pray in solitude? Do you consider yourself a “religious” person? Where do you go to pray? When have you needed time alone? Is God among those with whom you talk on a daily basis? What is the longest that you have prayed? Do you typically act or pray first? Why does Jesus, God incarnate, pray? Why do you pray? If Jesus needs prayer, how more so do we?

All of the details of Luke’s account of the selection of the disciples support that God’s will is being done. Robert J. Karris (b. 1938) contends:

As he does so often in his Gospel, Luke spotlights Jesus at prayer (Luke 6:12)...The selection of the Twelve is not only Jesus’ decision, but also God’s will revealed in prayer. (Karris, Invitation to Luke, 82)

Joel B. Green (b. 1956) explains:

In spite of the Lukan view that all Jesus does is done as one anointed by the Holy Spirit (Luke 4:1, 14, 18), the Third Evangelist periodically reminds his audience that his fundamental interest is in demonstrating that, within this narrative, the purpose of God is coming to fruition. In his account of the selection of the twelve this is evident, first, in its topography; Jesus goes out to a mountain, a locale often associated in Jewish literature with theophanic episodes and divine revelation. Second, in an unusual turn of phrase (“in prayer to God”), combined with an emphatic description of Jesus’ prayer, Luke draws attention to the divine impetus for the selection of the twelve to serve as “apostles.” Luke has not previously established a narrative need for the election of apostles, a reality that underscores its origination in the divine will, discerned in prayer. As Luke presents it, the idea of choosing itself, the election of twelve persons, and the choice of these particular persons from among the larger group of disciples — all three are divinely sanctioned. Jesus thus acts as God’s agent and in continuity with the divine will. (Green, The Gospel of Luke (The New International Commentary on the New Testament), 258)

The presumption is that Jesus chooses wisely. Scripture never laments nor regrets the choice of the Twelve. In fact, Jesus seems to affirm the choice (John 15:16). Robert H. Stein (b. 1935) notes:

In Acts 1:2 Jesus’ prayer and choice of the twelve is described in The Jerusalem Bible as having occurred “through the Holy Spirit.” It is uncertain, however, whether the phrase “through the Holy Spirit” goes better with the participle “giving instructions” (NIV) or the verb “chosen.” (Stein, Luke (The New American Commentary), 192)

Even with divine endorsement, the disciples are not flawless. Alfred McBride (b. 1928) assesses:

He [Jesus] did not pick perfect candidates, but people with a mixture of talents, flaws, gifts and frailties. They were pilgrims, not saints. They represented a range of human foolishness: vanity, ambition, jealousy, cowardice, doubt, bravado, betrayal, and overreaching...Still, in the end, they proved to be made of the stuff of saints. The Holy Spirit led them to be loving, truthful, brave, loyal, assured, humble, and saintly. Most of them witnessed Christ even to the point of martyrdom. Only one of them failed Christ’s expectations. (McBride, The Human Face of Jesus: Meditation and Commentary on the Gospel of Luke, 62-63)

Bruce B. Barton (b. 1943) characterizes:

Whatever Jesus’ specific reasons for choosing each disciple, as a group they were often hot-tempered, unbelieving, and “clueless” about the spiritual realities behind Jesus’ ministry. One became a traitor, and all of them abandoned Jesus when following him meant sacrifice and hardship. The apostles proved the truth of Jesus’ words: “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last” (John 15:16 NIV). (Barton, Luke (Life Application Bible Commentary), 144)

Bruce Larson (1925-2008) reminds:

Remember, Jesus chose twelve disciples, and one of them was Judas. That raises the question of whether or not Judas was an answer to prayer—one of the big theological questions of all time. God may give us some brothers and sisters who are not easy to love and who may even disappoint us and betray us, but the good news is that we need not be afraid of failure. God will be with us in our failures. (Larson, Luke (Mastering the New Testament), 119-20)

The enduring prayer before the selection of the disciples accents that the goal of prayer is to join with God’s will wherever that may lead. Doing so does not come with a guarantee that life will be perfect. Unifying with God’s will, however, is incentive enough.

Where does picking the Twelve rank among the important decisions Jesus makes during his earthly ministry? Is Jesus’ prayer effective; did he choose his disciples well? What is Jesus’ criteria for drafting the Twelve? Were the disciples selected based upon product or potential? Was Judas supposed to be selected? When has answered prayer not led to the results that you expected?

“The value of consistent prayer is not that [God] will hear us, but that we will hear Him.” -William McGill (1732-1807)

How Low Will God Go? (Genesis 18:32)

How many faithful people did Abraham need to find in Sodom in order for the Lord not to destroy it? Ten (Genesis 18:32)

After openly debating whether to confide in Abraham (Genesis 18:16-19; John 15:15), God decides to inform the patriarch that the outcry against Sodom has warranted an investigation (Genesis 18:20-21). Accurately inferring that the city’s destruction is imminent, Abraham pleads for its survival (Genesis 18:23-32). He begins his plea with a question: “Will You indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?” (Genesis 18:23 NASB)

Abraham does not wait for a reply. Instead he applies for a reprieve in the event that fifty righteous citizens can be found (Genesis 18:24-25). W. Sibley Towner (b. 1933) reads:

In the spirited colloquy between the Lord and Abraham that follows, the patriarch bargains tenaciously for the lives of the innocent people of Sodom. He raised the possibility that fifty righteous person might become “collateral damage” when God blitzes the city. He even hints the Lord would be unjust. The tone, if not the literal text, of Genesis 18:25 says “Shame on you!” (Towner, Genesis (Westminster Bible Companion), 171)

After being assured that the city would be spared for the sake of fifty innocents (Genesis 18:26), Abraham presses his luck. He repeats the question, reducing the requisite number by five. This process is repeated through six iterations as the patriarch gradually dwindles the minimum from 50 to 45 to 40 to 30 to 20 to 10 (Genesis 18:24-32). The text takes on a tit-for-tat pace as after each reduction, God reassures Abraham that Sodom would be spared if it met the stated requirements.

Kenneth A. Mathews (b. 1950) characterizes:

The numbers of righteous reduce by five’s, from fifty to forty (Genesis 18:24, 28a, 29a) and then ten’s from forty to ten (Genesis 18:30a, 31a, 32a). Interspersed are the Lord’s speeches, like a refrain, repeating the equivalent number in each case. This give-and-take arrangement, which in this case means Abraham “takes” and the Lord “gives,” exhibits the Lord’s grace and also Abraham’s compassion for the recalcitrant city. (Matthews, Genesis 11:27-50:26 (New American Commentary), 229)

Stuart Briscoe (b. 1930) compares:

He...engaged in a dialogue with the Lord which at first sight is reminiscent of an American tourist trying to beat down an Arab shopkeeper in the bazaars of the Old City of Jerusalem. He got a guarantee from the Lord that if there were fifty righteous people in Sodom the city would not be destroyed for their sake, but he recognized that he was overestimating the spiritual condition of Sodom. He brought down his figure by increments until the Lord promised that if there were ten righteous Sodom would be saved from judgment. The Lord had proved once again that His commitment to righteousness was inviolate. That if His servant was capable of moral integrity the Lord Himself was no stranger to rectitude and could indeed be trusted always to do what is right. (Briscoe, Genesis (Mastering the Old Testament), 166)

Perhaps sensing the time for bartering has reached its limit, the conversation abruptly ends; Abraham stops at ten and God departs (Genesis 18:32-33).

Then he [Abraham] said, “Oh may the Lord not be angry, and I shall speak only this once; suppose ten are found there?” And He said, “I will not destroy it on account of the ten.” (Genesis 18:32 NASB)

It would appear that Abraham seeks to spare the city for the sake of a few good men. Miguel A. De La Torre (b. 1958) cautions:

As we envision all of the town’s men before Lot’s house we are forced to ask: Where are the women of the city? We know by Genesis 19:4 that the men were wicked, but what about the women? When Abraham asked God...if ten righteous men could be found would the city be spared, we wonder what would have happened if Abraham would simply have asked for ten righteous persons? Patriarchy blinds us to the women’s presence in the story. All the men may have been wicked, but what about their wives? Their daughters? Is the city’s salvation or destruction based solely on the faithfulness, or lack thereof, of men? Do women who may have been righteous remain invisible? (De La Torre, Genesis: Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, 191)

Though bold enough to negotiate with God, Abraham is cautious in his interactions with the divine. Thomas L. Brodie (b. 1940) analyzes:

The bargaining, concerning the requisite number of just people to save the city, falls essentially into three parts, bringing the number first to fifty, then to thirty, and finally to ten. The language of just and wicked/evil is moral, but in this legal debate, such language also has the legal meaning of innocent and guilty. The issue: Does God punish the innocent? Abraham is careful. In pleading the case he “deploys a whole panoply of the abundant rhetorical devices of ancient Hebrew for expressing self-abasement before a powerful figure” (Robert Alter [b. 1935], 82). (Brodie, Genesis As Dialogue: A Literary, Historical, and Theological Commentary, 249)

R. Kent Hughes (b. 1942) applies:

As Abraham explored the fate of Sodom with God, beautiful things emerged about him and his God. The six “what ifs”—What if...fifty?...forty-five?...forty?...thirty?...twenty...ten?—are instructive. In all of this Abraham “hangs on to God’s skirt like a burr.” He wrestled with God like Jacob did with the angel (cf. Genesis 32:22-32). And amazingly, Abraham’s boldness grew, for notice that the last three petitions lowered the number of necessary righteous by tens! Jesus would teach his disciples that “they ought always to pray and not lose heart” (Luke 18:1). This first patriarch and disciple set the pace. And we should note that Abraham’s prayers were not without effect. As the cities of the plain went up in flames, we read tellingly that “God remembered Abraham and sent Lot out of the midst of the overflow” (Genesis 19:29). (Hughes, Genesis: Beginning and Blessing (Preaching the Word), 266)

Conspicuously, Abraham willingly breaks off the negotiations when he arrives at ten righteous citizens (Genesis 18:32). Gordon Wenham (b. 1943) comments:

Clearly Abraham feels he has reached the limit of what he dare ask. He opens with the conciliatory “Do not be angry” (Genesis 18:30) and asks to speak “just once more.” And again his request is granted, albeit with the same threatening formula as in Genesis 18:31: “I shall not ruin it.” (Wenham, Genesis 16-50 (Word Biblical Commentary), 53)

Terence E. Fretheim (b. 1936) inquires:

Why does Abraham stop at ten and not take the dialogue with God all the way down to one? Or why does Abraham not begin with the number ten (or one)? If he wanted to focus on the issue of justice in a strict sense, the presence of one righteous person would be sufficient to make his case. That is to say, for even one righteous person to die in the course of the judgment on the wicked would be unjust. Because Abraham does not begin with the lowest numbers, he must want to make another point than one of strict divine justice...Why, then, are fifty or ten righteous persons enough to spare the city, but, apparently, one to nine persons is not? It may be that the number ten represents the smallest group (some think of a minyan) and that a smaller number would be dealt with as individuals, who could be (and were) led out of the city. Nahum Sarna [1923-2005] suggests an appropriate direction for reflection. Ten represents the limit of the number of righteous individuals who could outweigh the cumulative evil of the community. Ten constitutes the “minimum effective social entity.” I prefer the language of “critical mass.” (Fretheim, Abraham: Trials of Family and Faith, 83-84)

Leon R. Kass (b. 1939) observes:

Curiously, Abraham on his own and voluntarily—“I will speak yet but this once” (Genesis 18:32)—stops the bargaining at ten. This is strange. On the principle that has driven him from the start, and that has apparently been supported at every turn by God’s response—namely, that the righteous ought not suffer—Abraham might have pressed the case to its logical conclusion: to spare the city for the sake of one righteous man. Why does Abraham break off at ten? Why does he not push all the way to one?...Abraham may have been afraid or ashamed to push to the limit, either out of a gradually increasing fear that God will judge him presumptuous or out of embarrassment at revealing a personal interest in his one kinsman. In addition, encouraged by God’s concessions, he might have become increasingly moved by feelings of awe. But fear, shame, and awe aside, Abraham may have broken off the bargaining because he may have learned something. Encouraged by God’s acceptance of his conditions, he is gradually brought to adopt the divine perspective. Like God, Abraham has begun to think about justice for a whole city. (Kass, The Beginning of Wisdom: Reading Genesis, 324)

Much has been made of why Abraham ceases his bartering at ten. Many have pointed to concern for his nephew, Lot, a resident of Sodom (Genesis 14:12), as the explanation for Abraham’s vested interest in the doomed city. In fact, this episode marks Abraham’s second intervention for Sodom and the first was clearly undertaken in deference to Lot (Genesis 14:14). Still, there were fewer than ten members of Lot’s family (Genesis 19:12-14).

Howard F. Vos (b. 1925) conjectures:

He never got so personal or selfish as to pray for relatives only. He stopped at ten, apparently presuming that Lot’s influence would guarantee at least that many righteous persons. But evidently such was not the case, as subsequent developments would demonstrate. (Vos, Genesis (Everyman’s Bible Commentary), 90)

Burton L. Visotzky (b. 1951) critiques:

Maybe Abraham got shy because his naked self-interest at saving his favorite nephew would be all too clear. When self-interest, rather than true justice, is the driving force in the bargaining, perhaps it is doomed to fail. Although it must be noted with divine irony that even as Sodom melts down, Abraham’s seed gets saved through his clout. So God destroys the city and still saves Lot. But what lesson might Abraham take from this outcome, then? (Visotzky, The Genesis of Ethics, 65)

George W. Coats (1936-2006) determines:

The point is not that Lot and his family are righteous. In the flood story, Noah survives disaster in part because of his righteousness (Genesis 7:1). But Lot is not labeled righteous, here or in chapter 19. In these negotiations, Lot never enters the discussion as a reason for appealing to the Lord for mercy. The issue is simply the contrast between wicked Sodom and the righteousness that cannot be found there (cf. Genesis 13:13). Moreover, the entire dialogue carries out the plan cited in Genesis 18:21. The grave sin is as grave as the depiction in Genesis 18:20. Thus, the negotiations constitute the probe of Yahweh into the character of the city, and the city proves void of righteousness. The unit sets the stage for chapter 19. (Coats, Genesis, with an Introduction to Narrative Literature (Forms of the Old Testament Literature), 141)

If the halting of Abraham’s petition is not connected to Lot, then why does he stop? Many explanations have been posited. Victor P. Hamilton (b. 1952) surveys:

Joseph Blenkinsopp [b. 1927] (“Abraham and the Righteous of Sodom,” Journal of Jewish Studies 33 [1982] 1230) summarizes suggestions of earlier commentators. He notes the suggestion of Ludwig Schmidt [b. 1924] (De Deo, pp. 151-156) that 50 and 10 have a special significance as military and judicial subunits. Schmidt’s proposal is that 50 stands for an extended family and 10 for the smallest unit constituting a group in the city. Perhaps for Abraham 10 was a sufficient figure to make his point, and to go beyond that number was unnecessary. Walter Brueggemann [b. 1933] (Catholic Biblical Quarterly 47 [1985] 410) says that “In its outcome the narrative is thoroughly Jewish because the bottom line is the minimum often, a minyan.” James L. Crenshaw [b. 1934] (A Whirlpool of Torment: Israelite Traditions of God as an Oppressive Presence, OBT [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984], p. 20 n. 38) suggests that in halting at 10, Abraham “stopped short of pushing the deity to the limit.” (Hamilton, The Book of Genesis: Chapters 18-50 (New International Commentary on the Old Testament Series), 24-25)

Martin Kessler (b. 1927) and Karel Deurloo (b. 1936) add:

Abraham counted off from fifty to ten, but to complete the number of six questions, the narrator had him say fifty minus five, which YHWH, who knows his math, calculated as forty-five. Abraham could not go beyond ten. In Judaism, ten is the minimal congregation of the righteous (minyan), which could represent the whole city. After six days of work, the seventh day is YHWH’s. Thus, Abraham let the seventh possibility open for YHWH, for he remained concerned about Lot. Only in that seventh possibility would Abraham’s intercession have any effect at all (Genesis 19:29), since the other six had failed. (Kessler and Deurloo, Commentary on Genesis: The Book of Beginnings, 116)

Tellingly, the basis of Abraham’s appeal is God’s justice, not the city’s righteousness. Victor P. Hamilton (b. 1952) outlines:

It appears that Abraham’s concern is twofold. His first concern, as expressed in Genesis 18:23, is whether Yahweh would indiscriminately kill the innocent along with the guilty. Thus, in Genesis 18:23 the emphasis is on the preservation of the saddîq. But in Genesis 18:24-32. Abraham expands his concern to include the preservation of the city/the place (hā‘îr/lammāqôm) because of the presence of the saddîq...Nowhere does Abraham challenge God’s evaluation of Sodom’s moral turpitude. The judgment is not up for debate. Nor does he at any point turn to Sodom to urge repentance. Rather, he turns to God to ask for divine mercy. (Hamilton, The Book of Genesis: Chapters 18-50 (New International Commentary on the Old Testament Series), 24-25)

Abraham fully admits that he is rooting for the minority to win the day. Laurence A. Turner interprets:

Note that Abraham does not plead for the salvation of a righteous remnant from the destruction of Sodom. Abraham knows his nephew better than that (see Genesis 13:8-13). In addition, Abraham has met the Sodomites first hand (Genesis 14:1-24), which has surely made him aware of the information divulged to the reader in Genesis 13:13, ‘Now the people of Sodom were wicked, great sinners against the Lord’. Knowing this, he may well wonder what corrupting effect they have had on Lot. As a result, Abraham pleads for the salvation of the whole city, on the basis of the vicarious righteousness of a minority of 10. In his pleading, Abraham divides the inhabitants of Sodom into two mutually exclusive groups: the righteous and the wicked (Genesis 18:23, 25). Abraham’s plea for the vicarious salvation of the whole city means that regardless of whether Lot is deemed to be righteous or wicked, he will be saved along with the rest of the city—if there are 10 righteous Sodomites (see Genesis 7:1-10, 19:30-38). (Turner, Genesis (Readings: A New Biblical Commentary), 82)

Regardless of his motives, Abraham’s actions are groundbreaking. This dialogue marks a major turning point in salvation history (Genesis 18:23-32). David Rosenberg (b. 1943) explains:

Tracing Abraham’s drama of these tentative iterations of a final agreement—to spare the cities if even ten innocent people can be found here—... [leaves] this danger of allowing evil to persist. Ten innocent individuals existing in Sodom certainly will not erase that evil. But Abraham is articulating what has never been accessible in any cosmic theater: the decision about evil is no longer a singular drama in the mind of a god. Now, it is one that has been joined in by humankind; that is what makes it more complex and costly...Abraham is not merely balancing moral weights on Sumerian scales here, but actively engaging with Yahweh in the creation of a realistic theater. Similarly, the vulnerability assumed by Yahweh in turn is staggering, for while ten innocents cannot erase or undo the evil, evil can erase or undo creation...It is now up to mortal men and women to negotiate and explore the way of God within a cosmic theater, and not to simply struggle with the dictates of a god. (Rosenburg, Abraham: The First Historical Biography, 218-19)

In permitting Abraham to intercede for Sodom, God is allowing humans the opportunity to shape history. And humanity has had that option ever since.

Why does Abraham intercede for Sodom? Is he more concerned with divine justice or his nephew’s fate? Are you concerned with international affairs? Given that God has accepted every one of his propositions, why does Abraham stop at ten? Does Abraham’s dickering have any affect? Have you ever bartered with God? When have you interceded for another? Would God destroy the righteous with the wicked; does God tolerate collateral damage? How many innocent people were dwelling in Sodom? How many righteous residents would it have taken to spare the city?

The questions that God answers are not near as tantalizing as the one that the text leaves dangling: Would God sweep away the righteous with the wicked (Genesis 18:23)? Perhaps sensing this tension, Josephus (37-100) denotes that there are no righteous in Sodom (Antiquities 1.199). In moving the dialogue towards the negotiations, Abraham lets his initial question linger.

Some have speculated that Abraham leaves satisfied; the theological point having been made. Allen P. Ross (b. 1943) pinpoints:

This passage [Genesis 18:16-33] has most frequently (and legitimately) been treated for its emphasis on intercession; the predominant theme of the whole section, however, is justice. This motif grows out of the preceding narrative, which stressed that God was able to do whatever he chose to do. But would it be just? The answer to this question was a foregone conclusion, which Abraham’s intercession demonstrated. It is clear from the outset of the story that Abraham’s intercession was not going to alter the situation, for Sodom and Gomorrah deserved judgment. The narrator thus used the intercession to show that the destruction of the cities of the plain would be just. (Ross, Creation and Blessing: A Guide to the Study and Exposition of Genesis, 347)

Gerhard Von Rad (1901-1971) writes:

The discontinuance of the conversation at “ten innocent” has given rise to many reflections...His refusal to go on from the ten innocent to five and finally to one, raises many questions need not mean that the conversation ends with an open question. Apparently Abraham and the narrator, at Yahweh’s answer in Genesis 18:32, reached a final limit, to ask beyond which did not occur to Abraham. Thereby, in our opinion, the narrative guards the uniqueness and marvel of the message about the one who brings salvation and reconciliation for “many” (Isaiah 53:5, 10); for this was not anything expected or inferred from men. Besides Isaiah 53, one should refer to Hosea 11:8-9 for the ultimate consequence not drawn in our conversation: God does not want to destroy, rather his heart ‘recoils”; he is as a holy one “in your midst”...The righteous one who redeems, the holy one is here not a man but God himself (Kurt Galling [1900-1987], Deutsche Theologie 1939, 86ff). (Von Rad, Genesis: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 214)

In contrast, Susan Brayford (b. 1950) suspects:

When God again admits he will not destroy on account of ten, Abraham perhaps wishes he could speak once again. However, he said he would not [Genesis 18:32]. Just in case Abraham decides to ask for more – or less, God stops speaking to Abraham and departs [Genesis 18:33]. Abraham, no longer having a conversation partner, returns to his place. Inasmuch as Abraham never again engages in an extended conversation with God, his ‘place’ is both literal (where he is living) and figurative (not equal to God). (Brayford, Genesis (Septuagint Commentary Series), 317)

As such, the text ends with Abraham’s initial inquiry unresolved. Robert Ignatius Letellier (b. 1953) notes:

Interestingly for the general structure of the whole narrative complex, the last answer “For the sake of ten I will not destroy it” (Genesis 18:32) is ambiguous since it resolves the tension provoked by Abraham’s last question but does not terminate the anxiety generated by Abraham’s intercession generally...The unresolved issues of Genesis 18 span the break with Genesis 19 and look to ensuing events for resolution. (Letellier, Day in Mamre, Night in Sodom: Abraham and Lot in Genesis 18 and 19, 51)

W. Lee Humphreys (b. 1939) expounds:

There it ends—at ten. “And Yahweh went as he finished speaking to Abraham, and Abraham returned to his place” (Genesis 18:33). Their dialogue ends, but we are not sure where we stand, for we are not told what the speakers think, know, or feel about it. The whole scene appears a bit askew upon reflection. Yahweh tells Abraham he will go down but does not go when Abraham does not pick up on his going. Abraham switches the issue from what Yahweh proposes to do to concern for Yahweh’s justice, and his nature as “judge of all the earth” (Genesis 18:25). Yahweh enters this new frame of reference, but in a most literal way that may well subvert it. The back and forth, then, in terms of such literal calculations, ends with a resolution in which little is resolved. (Humphreys, The Character of God in the Book of Genesis: A Narrative Appraisal, 122)

The question of the fate of the city that houses five or even one righteous soul is left for another day. This discussion will ultimately end with Jesus: One will be enough.

Walter Brueggemann (b. 1933) interprets:

The discussion ends with a dismaying abruptness. First, its abruptness is striking because it ends at a figure of ten (Genesis 18:33). One might insist, if we were calculating mathematicians, that that ending shows there must be ten and that nine will not do. But, one would fail to see the point. Rather, the conversation breaks off because the point is established that the power of righteousness overrides evil. The dramatic exploration need not be carried further. Second, the narrative is abrupt because after the deep struggle of chapter 18 the stroy of chapter 19 goes ahead as though nothing is changed. That is likely because (1) chapter 19 is old traditional material that could not be altered in the telling and (2) because the dialogue of chapter 18 is a new theological probing that only raises a fresh question still to be pursued rather than reaching a firm conclusion as a basis for chapter 19. The possibility raised by Abraham is perhaps too radical. It is suggested and then left to germinate in the heart of God. The issue remains between new affirmation (Genesis 18:22-33) and old tradition (Genesis 19:1-28). The principle of a new righteousness is affirmed in Genesis 18:22-33. These verses (Genesis 19:1-28) sound as though the concern is only to rescue the innocent (Lot and his family) without a care for the guilty. The popular theology of Genesis 19:1-28 moves in the direction of individualism and will be easily accepted by conventional believers. Previously, Genesis 18:22-33 carries with it a more difficult theology that will be intellectually more demanding. It stands against the usual moralism of each receiving his or her due. It is the good news of Genesis 18:22-33 and not the convention of Genesis 19:1-28 that moves toward Jesus of Nazareth. And like a subtle reprise, even in the conventionalism of chapter 19, Genesis 19:29 adds one whisper from chapter 18. Lot is saved not by his righteousness but vicariously by the power of Abraham...By the new mathematics of Genesis 18:22-33 (and Genesis 19:29), one is enough to save (Romans 5:15-17). (Brueggemann, Genesis (Interpretation: a Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 172-73)

R.R. Reno (b. 1959) deciphers:

As he presses God on behalf of the possible righteous residents of Sodom and Gomorrah, we see that those called to fellowship with God intercede as well. In this way Abraham foreshadows Moses, who intercedes on behalf of the sinful Israelites, as well as the Levitical priesthood that sacrifices on behalf of the people. Abraham even more clearly prefigures Christ. Abraham urges God to accept the righteousness of a few as sufficient for the salvation of the sinful many. Abraham stops at ten, but as the history of the covenant moves forward the righteousness of Christ alone is sufficient for the deliverance of all. Christ Jesus sits “at the right hand of God...[and] intercedes for us” (Romans 8:34). Christ is like Abraham, petitioning his Father on our behalf: “Suppose there was one man found righteous, wilt thou not spare the city of man for his sake?” (Reno, Genesis (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), 186)

God will not only answer definitely that one righteous individual will be enough to save the populace, God will supply the One.

Do you think that Abraham regretted breaking off the conversation when he did or is he content with the conversation’s resolution? Is God more or less merciful than Abraham had imagined? What would the city’s fate have been if a lone righteous soul had been found in Sodom? What is the most impact one person has had on a community? What impact do you have on yours?

“One person can make a difference and every person should try.” - John F. Kennedy (1917-1963)

A Cloud The Size of a Hand (I Kings 18:44)

Who saw “a cloud no larger than a man’s hand” and knew the three-year drought was over? Elijah’s servant (I Kings 18:44)

One of the most famous incidents in the life of Elijah is his defeat of 450 prophets of Ba’al in a contest to determine whose god would send fire on Mount Carmel (I Kings 18:20-40). Immediately after this great triumph, while in the midst of a drought and with nary a cloud in the sky, Elijah dismisses King Ahab in anticipation of a torrential downpour (I Kings 18:41). The prophet then assumes the fetal position (I Kings 18:42) and instructs his unnamed servant to inspect the horizon seven times (I Kings 18:43). After the first six trips prove fruitless, the servant returns a seventh time having witnessed the smallest of signs (I Kings 18:44).

It came about at the seventh time, that he [the servant] said, “Behold, a cloud as small as a man’s hand is coming up from the sea.” And he [Elijah] said, “Go up, say to Ahab, ‘Prepare your chariot and go down, so that the heavy shower does not stop you.’” (I Kings 18:44 NASB)

Marvin A. Sweeney (b. 1953) summarizes:

Elijah goes to the top of Carmel and prostrates himself, with his head between his knees, in a position of prayer. The purpose of this action becomes evident as he bids his servant seven times to look out to the sea. When the boy observes at his seventh attempt a small rain cloud forming over the Mediterranean it is evident that the drought is about to come to an end. (Sweeney, First and Second Kings: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 229-30)

The only evidence the servant produces is a seemingly inconsequential cloud (I Kings 18:44) yet this is enough confirmation to satisfy Elijah.

When James recounts the event, he attributes the downpour to the prophet’s prayers (James 5:17-18). August H. Konkel (b. 1948) interprets:

A sevenfold repetition indicates the fullness of prayer (I Kings 18:43-44); each time the servant ascends one of the peaks of Carmel for the best view. At the first sign of a small cloud the company begins its descent from the mountain lest the rain bog them in the valley below. As Ahab rides furiously towards Jezreel, Elijah runs on ahead [I Kings 18:46]. Running before the king indicates service to the king, now with the intent that the king will fulfill his proper mission in service to God. (Konkel, 1 & 2 Kings (The NIV Application Commentary), 301)

Warren W. Wiersbe (b. 1929) applies:

Unlike the answer to the prayer at the altar, the answer to this prayer didn’t come at once. Seven times Elijah sent his servant to look toward the Mediterranean Sea and report any indications of a storm gathering, and six of those times the servant reported nothing. The prophet didn’t give up but prayed a seventh time, and the servant saw a tiny cloud coming from the sea. This is a good example for us to follow as we “watch and pray” and continue to intercede until the Lord sends the answer...The little cloud wasn’t a storm, but it was the harbinger of the rains that were to come. (Wiersbe, Be Responsible (I Kings): Being Good Stewards of God’s Gifts, 169)

The precursor to rain is a natural one, namely a cloud. Richard D. Patterson and Hermann J. Austel (1927-2011) define:

The Hebrew word for “cloud” (’āb) refers to a thick, dark, rainy cloud mass (cf. Judges 5:4; II Samuel 23:4). Ahab’s need for haste in the face of the oncoming cloudburst can be appreciated when one realizes that his chariot must travel seventeen miles through the accumulating mud and across the quickly swelling dry wadis. (Tremper Longman III [b. 1952] and David E. Garland [b. 1947], 1 Samuel-2 Kings (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary), 779)

The cloud is “as small as a man’s hand” (I Kings 18:44 NASB). In her classic devotional Streams in the Desert, L.B. Cowman (1870-1960) remarks:

“A cloud as small as a man’s hand is rising from the sea” (1 Kings 18:44). What a fitting description, for a man's hand had been raised in prayer to God before the rains came. (Cowman, Streams in the Desert: 366 Daily Devotional Readings, 176)

Other authors writing to a popular audience have also found symbolism in the cloud’s comparison to a hand. Clark Strand (b. 1957) sees:

The cloud witnessed by Elijah’s servant is very small—the tiniest cloud you could see, just like a little hand coming up over the horizon. So small is it, in fact, that it might almost seem insignificant, if it weren’t for the fact that it is shaped like a hand. That makes it intimate, and that intimacy gives Elijah an intimation of things to come. When it pops up from the blank horizon of the sea, immediately he leaps up. (Strand, How to Believe in God: Whether You Believe in Religion or Not, 109)

Craig B. Polenz (b. 1948) concurs:

There is a small cloud like a man’s hand on yonder horizon that is rising out of the sea, which is a type of our humanity (I Kings 18:44a). By injecting the human element of a hand, I believe the divine suggestion is that the things such as prolonged draughts, hopelessness, and bitter disappointment must acquiesce to the divinely empowered, small hand of a man. (Polenz, The Chronicles of Elijah: To Jericho and Beyond God’s Path of Enlightenment, 28)

The text’s emphasis, however, is on the cloud’s size, or lack thereof, not its shape. It uses a double description. First, it is described as “small” (ASV, CEV, HCSB, NASB, NIV, NKJV) or “little” (ESV, KJV, MSG, NLT, NRSV, RSV).

Then the servant adds the simile “as a man’s hand” (ASV, ESV, HCSB, KJV, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NLT, RSV). More modern translations use the equally accurate but more inclusive language of a “person’s hand” (NRSV) or “someone’s hand” (MSG).

A similar comparison occurred around Chattanooga, Tennessee, in 1917. Coal miners had begun dipping their graham crackers in marshmallow fluff. Noticing that he was selling an excessive number of graham crackers to the miners, Earl Mitchell Sr. (1884-1945), an industrious salesman for Chattanooga Bakery, investigated and decided to combine the two ingredients into a single product. Legend has it that during a moonlit night, Mitchell asked how the product should be packaged. Noting that it would fit into the average lunch pail, a coal miner held up circled fingers and framed the moon to indicate its size. With that, the Moon Pie was born. Despite taking its name from the moon, much like Elijah’s servant, the miner was indicating size, not shape.

The palm sized cloud is minuscule particularly against the backdrop of the vast sky. But it is enough for the prophet. Choon-Leong Seow (b. 1952) relates:

The servant sees a little cloud “no bigger than a person’s hand” arising from the horizon. The approaching cloud, though appearing small in the distance, is reminiscent of the cloud of glory that represented the Lord’s presence at the mountain of God in the time of Moses. (Seow, 1 & 2 Kings, 1 & 2 Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Tobit, Judith (The New Interpreter’s Bible), 137)

Interpreting natural phenomena as divine omens is common among religious people. Piotr Sadowski (b.1957) philosophizes:

Sometimes...some reactions produced by non-human systems can be interpreted as “signs” by persons who regard certain natural phenomena, such as the strike of a thunderbolt, a flood, an earthquake, or a pestilence as resulting not just from physical causes but from the actions of some purposeful, supernatural intelligence, variously identified as “god,” “providence,” or “fate.” Interpreted in this light natural phenomena begin to assume human-like characteristics, as when the prophet Elijah’s prayer for rain is answered with “Behold, there ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man’s hand” (I Kings 18:44). Because having a purposeful design about things presupposes an autonomous system equipped with metainformational cognitive faculties, for religious persons the entire universe, created by such a superior being, can indeed be filled with “signs” rather than simply with physical states. (Sadowski, From Interaction to Symbol: A systems view of the evolution of signs and communication (Iconicity in Language and Literature), 69)

The belief in a personal God creates the hope that the deity is attempting to communicate. Joyce Meyer (b. 1943) encourages:

If you and I could just look at our situation really hard, I am sure we could always find a cloud of hope at least the size of a man’s hand. No matter how things may look right now, I am sure that there must be at least that much hope we can hang onto. (Meyer, The Battle Belongs to the Lord: Overcoming Life’s Struggles Through Worship, 175)

Why does the servant describe the cloud? What does the analogy “as small as a man’s hand” add to the story? How would you have described the cloud had you been Elijah’s servant? Do you believe that God speaks through natural occurrences? When have you gained confidence from a seemingly negligible sign? Why do you think that both the king and the servant followed Elijah’s instructions to vacate the vicinity?

Elijah believes in his prayer so much that he employs a lookout. He puts his money where his mouth is, placing his reputation (invaluable to a prophet) on the line. And his faith is rewarded.

Iain W. Provan (b. 1957) elucidates:

It is a long wait but at last a cloud as small as a man’s hand is seen rising from the sea. Though small, it is enough to assure Elijah that the drought is over (cf. Luke 12:54), and after warning Ahab to leave or get wet, he races him to Jezreel in the power of the LORD. As we might expect, in view of the story so far, he wins. It is a fitting conclusion to the chapter. (Provan, 1 and 2 Kings (New International Biblical Commentary), 139)

Elijah’s forecast is correct marking a rare instance in which a cloud serves as a good omen. The small hand-sized cloud represents the first fruits of the heavy rains that follow (I Kings 18:45).

Jesse C. Long, Jr. (b. 1953) praises:

For Elijah, an unsurpassed stalwart of faith, even a small cloud is enough to know that Yahweh is about to send rain. Ahab is told to hurry back before the rains mire his travel. The sky grows black, the winds pick up, and a heavy rain begins. Ahab sets out in his chariot, and the power of the Lord seizes Elijah, enabling him to run ahead of Ahab to Jezreel (the location of Ahab’s winter palace, not far from Carmel). (Long, 1 & 2 Kings (College Press NIV Commentary), 218)

Richard Nelson (b. 1945) reveals:

The climax comes in I Kings 18:45 with a colorful description of the storm’s sudden onset. The dramatic tension drains away in the denouement of Elijah’s spirit-driven twenty-five kilometer run to Jezreel (I Kings 18:46). Once more, Ahab, who has been either passive or absent during much of the chapter, simply reacts to events. (Nelson, First and Second Kings (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching & Preaching), 120)

The large faith generated from such a small sign has inspired many. James Joyce (1882-1941) titled the eighth story in his Dubliners collection “A Little Cloud” and the expression “Cloud Like a Man’s Hand” developed from this narrative (I Kings 18:41-45).

David L. Jeffrey (b. 1941) traces:

The expression is often used simply to portend the imminence of greater things. It is of little moment in medieval and Renaissance literature, but emerges to prominence in Protestant preaching of the Puritan tradition in connection with meditations on prayer “in faith believing” (see Matthew Poole [1624-1679]’s commentary in his Annotations upon the Holy Bible; also on James 5:7), and in Sunday sermons on Elijah and Elisha such as Cytherea reflects sorrowfully as she ponders being forced into marriage in Thomas Hardy [1840-1928]’s Desperate Remedies. (Jeffrey, A Dictionary of Biblical Tradition in English Literature, 148)

Elijah is able to see the great potential in such a small sign as he views the world with the eyes of faith ( Matthew 5:8; Ephesians 1:18). He takes action before the sign comes to fulfillment, instructing the king to get while the getting’s good (I Kings 18:44).

John W. Olley (b. 1938) describes:

Elijah is confident as he hears with the ears of faith: there is the sound of a heavy rain – but as yet no cloud (I Kings 18:41, 43). He expectantly commands the king to go up, eat and drink...that is, participate in the meal associated with the sacrifice, here signifying for Ahab a reaffirming of the covenant with Yahweh. (Olley, The Message of Kings (Bible Speaks Today), 177)

Gary Inrig (b. 1943) adds:

Elijah’s confidence that God would answer this prayer was so great that this was all the evidence he needed. He sent the servant to advise Ahab to head for home as quickly as possible, before the storm overtook him. Torrential rain after a drought presented the likelihood of swollen streams, mudslides, and flash floods that would make charioteering dangerous. (Inrig, I & II Kings (Holman Old Testament Commentary), 150)

Elijah’s faith does not merely lead to belief. It transforms into action.

When have you taken an action based upon your faith in an as yet unrealized occurrence? What action do you need to be taking in faith now? How do you know that a sign is from God? How much evidence do you need before acting upon a sign from God?

“Signs must be read with caution. The history of Christendom is replete with instances of people who misread the signs.” - Sheldon Vanauken (1914-1996), A Severe Mercy, p. 190

Voice Recognition: (I Samuel 3:1-14)

Whose voice did young Samuel think he heard when God called him three times? Eli’s (I Samuel 3:4-8)

The third chapter of First Samuel describes a time of limited prophetic activity (not unlike our own) when “word from the Lord was rare” and “visions were infrequent” (I Samuel 3:1 NASB). The priest Eli and his young protégé Samuel are lying down at the Shiloh temple (I Samuel 3:2), the former resting by the ark of the covenant (I Samuel 3:3). After three verses establishing a highly ordinary setting, the pace picks up when God initiates action.

The Lord called Samuel; and he said, “Here I am.” Then he ran to Eli and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, lie down again.” So he went and lay down. (I Samuel 3:4-5 NASB)

When called, Samuel excitedly runs to answer the priest (I Samuel 3:5). His youthful enthusiasm is misdirected as he mistakenly interprets the voice’s origin. Fortunately, God’s call is deliberate and persistent. Undeterred, the Lord awakens Samuel four times (I Samuel 3:4, 6, 8, 10). In a comedic scene, three times the confused young man awakens Eli. After the third attempt, the seasoned priest recognizes that God is calling Samuel and instructs his pupil to respond in kind (I Samuel 3:8-9). The fourth time is the charm as Samuel receives the revelatory word (I Samuel 3:10-14). As such, Samuel first hears the voice of God while literally lying down on the job (I Samuel 3:4).

The setting is significant, symbolic of the nation’s theological predicament. Richard D. Phillips (b. 1960) observes:

The setting for Samuel’s calling is provocatively stated: “The lamp of God had not yet gone out” (I Samuel 3:3). This indicates that it was in the early hours before dawn that God called to Samuel, since the lamps were kept lit until morning. But this was also symbolically true: the lamp of God’s presence in Israel was dim but not completely out. In such a setting, the voice of the Lord was once more heard within his house. (Phillips, 1 Samuel (Reformed Expository Commentary), 65)

The light is scarce but it is not yet extinguished. The voice in the darkness mirrors the hope for renewal embodied in Samuel.

Kevin J. Mellish (b. 1968) adds:

The location where Eli and Samuel slept at the time of the theophany is also symbolic. Eli was in his own room and separated from the ark. Samuel was lying down in the temple...where the ark of God was (I Samuel 3:3). Based on this description, Samuel must have slept in the inner sanctuary where the ark resided. It is noteworthy that Samuel, the prophet/priest designate, remained near the presence of God, which was symbolized by the ark of the covenant. Eli, the soon to be deposed priest, slept at a distance from it. The imagery is fitting considering that Yahweh’s presence no longer abided with Eli as it was with Samuel, This is also the first, albeit brief, reference to the ark in Samuel. (Mellish, 1 & 2 Samuel: A Commentary in the Wesleyan Tradition (New Beacon Bible Commentary), 61)

Some have posed that Samuel’s position indicates that he is seeking just such a divine encounter. V. Philips Long (b. 1951) explains:

That Samuel is described as “lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was” (I Samuel 3:3), has led some to speculate that he may have been engaging in a well-attested ancient Near Eastern practice called “incubation.” Incubation involves spending a night in the temple precinct in the hope of receiving a divine or oracular dream. The practice is attested among the Egyptians, with manuals of dream interpretation being used as early as the New Kingdom period, among the Hittites of Anatolia, and in Canaan during the biblical period...Extrabiblical examples of such theophanies, or auditory message dreams as they are sometimes called, come from Egypt (Thutmose IV, fifteenth century), Ugarit (in both the Kirta Epic and ‘Aqhatu Legend), Hatti (Hattušiliš, thirteenth century), and Babylonia (Nabonidus, sixth century). (John H. Walton [b. 1952], Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 & 2 Samuel (Zondervan Illustrated Bible Backgrounds Commentary), 282-83)

Ralph W. Klein (b. 1936) counters:

We are not told why Samuel slept by the ark. The view that he was participating in some kind of incubation ritual seems contradicted by his repeated suspicion that Eli—and not God—was calling him. (Klein, 1 Samuel (Word Biblical Commentary), 32)

Instead, Samuel is likely taking his turn in fulfilling priestly duties. Robert D. Bergen (b. 1954) assumes:

While Samuel was fulfilling the Torah obligations to tend the lamp of God (cf. Leviticus 24:3; Numbers 18:23), the Lord called the youth and delivered a message of judgment to him. In a form paralleling Abraham, Jacob, and Moses’ obedient responses to divine calls (Genesis 22:1, 11, 31:11; Exodus 3:4), Samuel responded, “Here I am” (I Samuel 3:4). Because he did not initially know the Lord, however, Samuel at first went to Eli for further instructions (I Samuel 3:5-6, 8)...It is...probable that the writer included this note to demonstrate Samuel’s diligence in fulfilling Torah mandates. As a son of Aaron, Eli was required “to keep the lamps burning before the LORD from evening till morning” (Exodus 27:21; cf. Leviticus 24:3; also Numbers 18:23). However, since Eli apparently was too old for active service before Yahweh as a priest (cf. Numbers 8:23-26), the Levite Samuel was permitted to act as his surrogate in this matter (cf. Numbers 18:23). (Bergen, 1, 2 Samuel (New American Commentary), 86)

God calls Samuel while he is already on duty. Though Samuel does not know who is calling, he responds promptly and politely. Josephus (37-100) records that Samuel is only twelve years old at the time (Antiquities of the Jews 5.10.4).

It is clear that Samuel perceives the voice audibly, originating outside of himself. T.M. Luhrmann (b. 1959) determines:

The striking phenomenonological detail is that Samuel looked for the source of the voice. When someone gives you that detail—they heard a voice and then looked to see who was speaking—it is good evidence that they heard the voice with their ears. (Luhrmann, When God Talks Back: Understanding the American Evangelical Relationship with God, 344)

Samuel’s call marks a rare instance of a human hearing the audible call of God. Steven J. Andrews (b. 1954) and Robert D. Bergen (b. 1954) characterize Samuel’s experience:

Being so physically close to the Lord’s throne, Samuel was bound to meet him. All of chapters 1 and 2 has led up to this point. God was going to do something wonderful with this young man who was dedicated by his parents to minister before the Lord...Here was the moment of contact. Here was God’s call. It was personal and face-to-face. It was private when no one else was around. It came in God’s house in the early morning. Samuel answered...but he didn’t know who called him. He heard, but he wasn’t listening...God is certainly persistent. The verb call occurs eleven times in I Samuel 3:4-10. Anyone who has ever experienced a call from God can tell you that sometimes it is relentless. God does not give up. (Andrews and Bergen, I & II Samuel (Holman Old Testament Commentary), 32-33)

Samuel incorrectly assumes that the voice he hears is Eli’s. To explain this error, the text offers a narrative aside to remind the reader that Samuel has yet to hear the voice of God; Samuel is not yet the legendary prophet (I Samuel 3:7). One can hardly blame Samuel for his failure to recognize the voice. God has not spoken to him previously and Eli’s is the most likely voice. In this secluded setting, who else would be calling him?

Mary J. Evans (b. 1949) muses:

The story continues with the young Samuel asleep in the area where the ark of God was kept, a fact that shows how fully he had been integrated into priestly service. He hears a voice and immediately goes to Eli—maybe it was a regular occurrence for the almost blind Eli to need help. Samuel’s willingness to get up three times in the night, apparently without complaint, to attend to the ailing old man speaks well for the character of the young priest and draws attention to his worthiness to receive the prophetic word. (Evans, 1 and 2 Samuel (New International Biblical Commentary), 28)

Samuel’s mistake is also natural as the voice of God is often filtered through human beings. Kenneth Chafin (1926-2001) acknowledges:

How easy it still is not to be able to discern God’s voice from other voices. It would be so much easier if all of God’s messages to us came with a clearly printed label: “From God.” But, as my colleague, Frank Tupper [b. 1941], says, “God speaks to us through familiar voices.” While there is a tendency to think of the more dramatic revelations of God as normative, most people experience God’s guidance in quite ordinary ways: through experiences good and bad, while reading the Scripture, through the counsel of another, or out of a growing interest. (Chafin, 1, 2 Samuel (Mastering the Old Testament), 46)

Eugene H. Peterson (b. 1932) adds:

Learning to discern the difference between human words and God’s word is basic to his prophetic and priestly life: Samuel listens. Listening is an act of personal attentiveness that develops into answering. The emphatic “Let anyone with ears listen!” with which Jesus concluded his parables (Matthew 13:9, 43) is repeated in the Spirit’s urgent messages to the churches in the Revelation (Revelation 2:7, 11, 17, 29, 3:6, 13, 22)...Samuel answers, which is to say, he prays...Samuel’s very existence is a result of prayer, the prayer of his praying mother, Hannah. The story of his call in the temple, introducing his prophetic vocation, shows him learning how to pray for himself, that is, listen to God’s personal word to him and then respond. (Peterson, First and Second Samuel (Westminster Bible Companion), 38-39)

Ironically, Eli the priest is seldom depicted speaking for God. Yet here it is Eli, not Samuel, who correctly discerns the voice of God. Eli is finally doing his job: presenting a worldview with God at its center.

Alister E. McGrath (b. 1959) writes:

On the first three occasions, Samuel assumes that the natural sound he has heard has a natural referent, and behaves accordingly...The turning point of the narrative takes place when Eli offers an alternative interpretive framework. Confronted with the evident failure of the most obvious schema, Samuel is invited to consider an alternative explanation of his experience (I Samuel 3:9). Eli can here be seen as a representative of the tradition of Israel, which offers an alternative way of interpreting nature – in this case, as a gateway to the transcendent. God is made known through the natural order. (McGrath, The Open Secret: A New Vision for Natural Theology, 176)

It might have even been presumptuous for Samuel to assume that God is calling him. Jack M. Sasson (b. 1941) elucidates:

It is not a lack of intelligence that prevents Samuel from understanding what Eli does comprehend but rather a profound psychological block. Is it possible that God is calling him rather than Eli the priest? Conversely, Eli apprehends what Samuel fails to see, not because of superior intelligence or experience, but because he lacks the inhibitions generated by self-interest. Nothing deters him from assuming that God might turn to the young servant and pass over the old priest! In this way, Eli’s humility compensates for Samuel’s. (John Kaltner[b. 1954] and Louis Stulman [b. 1953], Inspired Speech: Prophecy in the Ancient Near East Essays in Honor of Herbert B. Huffmon [b. 1933], 179)

God speaks to Samuel in such a way that causes Eli to fulfill his primary duty as priest: directing his congregant to God. In some small way, Eli redeems himself. In a sad irony, God’s message to Samuel is confirmation of the fall of Eli’s household (I Samuel 3:11-14). Tragically, Eli’s most effective act as priest occurs while mediating his displacement.

Dallas Willard (b. 1935) praises:

How wonderful that Eli recognized what was happening to young Samuel and could tell him what to do to begin his lifelong conversational walk with God! Otherwise, it might have been years before Samuel would have found his way by himself. We must not mistakenly assume that if God speaks to someone, he or she automatically knows what is happening and who is taking. If Samuel did not know, surely many others also would not. (Willard, Hearing God, Updated and Expanded: Developing a Conversational Relationship with God, 143-44)

In this case, as in many, effectively hearing God is an act of collaboration. For God’s voice to be heard, the lad needs to be open to it, but he also needs guidance from an elder.

Though the passage illuminates the struggle that clergy experience in discerning their calling, discerning the voice of God and distinguishing it from one’s own is a universal challenge that plagues clergy and laymen alike. Hearing God’s voice is often difficult. But it does not mean that God is not speaking.

Eugene H. Peterson (b. 1932) asserts:

God speaks to Samuel. That God speaks is the basic reality of biblical faith. The fundamental conviction of our faith is not so much that God is, as that God speaks. The biblical revelation begins with God creating by word, speaking the cosmos into being (Genesis 1:1-31). It concludes with Jesus, the Word of God, speaking in invitation, “Come...” (Revelation 22:17). All the pages in between are packed with sentences that God speaks—in creation and invitation, in judgment and salvation, in healing and guidance, in oracle and admonition, in rebuke and comfort. The conspicuous feature in all this speaking is that God speaks in personal address. God does not speak grand general truths, huge billboard declarations of truth and morals; the Lord’s speaking is to persons, named persons: Abraham, Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Paul. And Samuel. Personal address, not philosophical discourse or moral commentary or theological reflection, is God’s primary form of speech. Whenever we let the language of religious abstraction or moral principles (and we do it often) crowd the personal address, we betray the word of God. (Peterson, First and Second Samuel (Westminster Bible Companion), 38)

Though God speaks, hearing is not often easy. Even Samuel, who literally lives in the temple, struggles to do so. Samuel’s experience demonstrates that a person can even be in the precarious position of encountering God without knowing it.

Norman J. Cohen (b. 1943) cautions:

Samuel reminds all of us how difficult it is to truly hear, see, and meet the other in our lives. When we finally do experience a moment of recognition and engagement, we sometimes are so overwhelmed that we cannot find the right words to express what we are thinking and feeling. As we are overcome with emotion, both elation and fear at the same time, words may seem impossible. (Cohen, “The Difficulty of Discerning the Call”, Hineini in Our Lives: Learning to Respond to Others Though 14 Biblical Texts & Personal Stories, 81)

Like all prophets, Samuel’s first prophetic act is to listen. His experience demonstrates that disambiguating the voice of God is a learned skill. This provides both a challenge and hope for us all as we echo Samuel’s words: “Speak, for your servant is listening (I Samuel 3:10 NASB).”

Why does God not make his identity more obvious when dealing with Samuel? When have you been called by an unfamiliar voice? If God called you, how would you know? Have you ever audibly heard God? In your mind, whose voice is most like God’s? What would have happened to Samuel had Eli failed to direct him? When has God spoken to you through a “familiar voice”? In what ways has God spoken to you? How have you been changed by the voice of God?

God speaking to Samuel forever changes his and his nation’s history. James E. Smith (b. 1939) notes:

One night (literally, “it came to pass on that day”) suggests that the day was special, a milestone in Samuel’s rise to leadership, and consequently in redemptive history. (Smith, 1 & 2 Samuel (The College Press NIV Commentary), 74)

The third chapter of First Samuel relays a coming of age story as Samuel is moving from “lad” to prophet. Samuel does not become a renowned prophet over night.

Richard L. Schultz (b. 1952) clarifies:

Hearing God’s call did not suddenly move Samuel from childhood to adulthood; following this encounter he still had to “grow up” (I Samuel 3:19). This text emphasizes God’s judgment on blatant sin in the family of Eli, Israel’s religious leader. It also portrays God’s careful preparation of Samuel for significant spiritual and political leadership as one who was open to hearing God’s voice and obeying. (Schultz, Out of Context: How to Avoid Misinterpreting the Bible, 86)

Samuel’s experience invites a discussion of calling. John Goldingay (b. 1942) projects:

Speaking with students often suggests to me that we think of ministry as something that enables us to find fulfillment, as it makes it possible for us to give expression to the gifts God has given us. Discernment thus begins as our seeking to perceive what our gifts are and how we may express them. There’s none of this way of thinking in the Old Testament or the New Testament. Samuel is not called because this will be the way he finds fulfillment...Given that the connotations of the word “call” have changed, we might do better to use the word “summons” rather than “call” to describe what happens to Samuel or Paul. Samuel gets the idea when he recognizes in the middle of the night that his boss has summoned him to do something, so he reports for duty; he just doesn’t realize which boss it is...There is nothing wrong with people using their gifts to serve God...It just has nothing to do with calling. (Goldingay, 1 & 2 Samuel for Everyone, 31)

As the message Samuel receives concerns Eli, many note that I Samuel 3:1-21 is not technically a call narrative. Anthony F. Campbell (b. 1934) advances:

The initiative is...given to Eli, and the focus of interest moves to his reaction. The story comes to rest with his acceptance...It is important to recognize that this is not a prophetic call narrative; there is no call. It may serve in place of a call narrative, since after this first experience of God’s word Samuel continues as a trustworthy prophet of the Lord. For all that, it is not a call narrative. (Campbell, 1 Samuel (The Forms of the Old Testament Literature), 57)

In contrast, Ronald F. Youngblood (b. 1931) offers:

The literary genre of I Samuel 3 has usually been considered a prophetic-call narrative in the grand tradition of Exodus 3 (Moses), Isaiah 6, Jeremiah 1, and the like. Recently, however, on the basis of ancient Near Eastern parallels, Robert Gnuse [b. 1947], in The Dream Theophany of Samuel: Its Structure in Relation to Ancient Near Eastern Dreams and Its Theological Significance has theorized that I Samuel 3 is best analyzed as an auditory message dream theophany. Although he sometimes tilts the evidence in his direction...his arguments are impressive...Of course, the genre could turn out to be a blend of both types (a not uncommon feature of Old Testament literature)—prophetic-call narrative plus auditory message dream theophany. But the advantage of Gnuse’s analysis is that it deals adequately with the fact that the Lord speaks to Samuel at night—a matter not handled convincingly by the theory that I Samuel 3 is a prophetic-call narrative and nothing more. (Tremper Longman III [b. 1952] and David E. Garland [b. 1947], 1 Samuel-2 Kings (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary), 65)

Some argue that as Samuel is awake as the story unfolds, the story cannot accurately be labeled a dream theophany. What cannot be argued is that this story marks a new era for Samuel and Israel. Samuel becomes an agent of change in both the nation’s religion (as a prophet) and politics (as the anointer the kings). His authorization to do so is significant.

Robert Alter (b. 1935) remarks:

The idea of revelation...is paramount to the story of Samuel, whose authority will derive neither from cultic function, like the priests before him, nor from military power, like the judges before him and the kings after him, but from prophetic experience, from an immediate, morally directive call from God. (Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, 109)

Walter Brueggemann (b. 1933) expounds:

The narrative takes great care to show that Samuel’s credibility does not rest on any conventional political confirmation. Rather, Samuel is presented as having an authorization rooted in nothing other than the freedom and promise of God. Samuel’s freshly authorized voice in Israel’s public life stands over against all conventional modes of power and brusquely displaces them. Surely the old Israelites—and the storytellers—are political realists. They understand how political-priestly power works, how it is secured, maintained, and exercised. They want to assert, at the same time, a holy governance that matters in concrete life, a holy governance that is not bounded by accustomed power, by ordained authority, by conventional leadership. There is a chance for newness. (Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 27)

Samuel is authorized to lead, but more importantly Samuel becomes Samuel through the process. His purpose is completely changed as he finds his identity in connection to God.

Francesca Aran Murphy (b. 1960) analyzes:

In order to become a moral individual, a person, Samuel must be called out of the familial collective and enter a direct relationship to God. God does not, here, just call an individual to effect a change in Israel’s culture: he creates an individual so to do...Only when the Lord calls with a single voice and reveals his unity, and only when the recipients of this revelation absorb communication of “Who he is,” can they become unified individuals, persons who act on history and cocreate it. (Murphy, 1 Samuel (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), 29)

Merold Westphal (b. 1940) informs:

It takes little imagination to hear the resonances of Emmanuel Levinas [1906-1995]’s me voici, whose origins in any case are biblical, in Samuel’s “Here am I.” While this speech act is an expression of Samuel’s freedom, there is more heteronomy than autonomy in it. He does not originate the conversation but is called, called forth, even called into being by a voice not his own. The meaning of the situation in which he finds himself is not determined by his horizons of expectation, which are simultaneously surprised and shattered. Nor is it just his situation that is changed; his very identity is changed, as he becomes no longer merely Hannah’s son or Eli’s helper, but the one who stands coram deo, in God’s presence, by a call that is at once invitation and command. Everything begins with “you called me.” Prayer is the beginning of responsibility because it begins as response...He identifies himself as the servant before his Lord...Actually, when he responds in accord with Eli’s instruction, he does not name the speaker, but simply says, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”...The heavy lifting is done by Samuel’s self-identification as the servant of the speaker, whose divinity he now recognizes. He calls himself ebbe, a bond-servant. (Bruce Ellis Benson [b. 1960] and Norman Wirzba [b. 1964], “Prayer as the Posture of the Decentered Self”, The Phenomenology of Prayer (Perspectives in Continental Philosophy), 17)

Samuel’s awakening is intended to awaken us to our calling as well. Though we may not be called to be prophets or national leaders, our true identity is to be found as servants of God.

Who are today’s change agents? What have you been authorized to do? What has God called you to do? Have you found your identity in God?

“Not only do we not know God except through Jesus Christ, but also we do not know ourselves except through Jesus Christ.” - Blaise Pascal (1623-1662), Pensées, p. 7